


Ink

by TardisGirl11 (ThedasWitch)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-19
Updated: 2015-04-12
Packaged: 2018-03-02 04:05:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2798909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThedasWitch/pseuds/TardisGirl11
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reader is a hunter who’s been working with Sam and Dean, and has a lot of tattoos. Both she and Sam like each other, but have always been afraid to act on it. That is, until they have to share a motel room.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Alternates between Sam's POV and the Reader's

Sam watched Dean hitting on the blonde bartender. Pulling out his phone, he typed out a quick text to Y/N:

                _Mind if I crash with you tonight? Looks like Dean will be busy in our room._

                A few moments later, the phone buzzed with a reply:

                _No problem. I’m already at the motel. The room to the right of yours._

_Thanks_

_No problem. See you in a bit._

                Sam settled his tab as Dean whispered something in the blonde’s ear that made her giggle. He rolled his eyes at his brother’s latest conquest. He jogged across the street to the motel where Y/N waited.

                He’d never acted on it, but Sam had been harboring a crush on Y/N for a while now. He thought she was beautiful, and more than that she was one of the most capable hunters he knew. Sam could spend hours talking to her about books or movies or nothing at all. There was something about the way she’d look at him and smile that set his heart racing like a teenager on his first date. And he had to admit that the tattoos that peeped out from the edges of her denim and flannel that had his fingers itching to peel her clothes back and explore every inked curve. But in the eight months they’d hunted together, he’d never made a move. Sam valued her presence and her friendship too much to risk it on the slim chance that she felt the same way.

                Arriving at the room, Sam knocked on the door. Barely a moment later, the motel room door swung open to reveal Y/N, standing in the doorway with a wide smile. “Come on in,” she said, stepping out of the way.

                “Thanks for this,” said Sam.

                “It’s no problem, really,” she replied “I don’t blame you for wanting to get out of Dean’s way. Let me guess, the bartender? The blonde?” Sam nodded, and she walked across the room to fish through her duffel bag. “I was just about to hop in the shower, but go ahead and make yourself comfortable. There’s only the one bed, but I think the couch pulls out. ”

                Sam settle on the couch while Y/N went into the bathroom. “See if you can find a movie or something on TV,” she called through the door. Grabbing the remote, Sam started idly flipping through the channels, trying not to be affected by the thought of Y/N stripping and showering on the other side of the door. The water started, and he felt the adjusted himself in his jeans as he pictured her, soaking wet under the hot water.

 

You pulled off your tank top and bra, tossing them to the floor and turning on the shower. While you waited for the water to heat up, you shook out your hair from its ponytail. You heard the channels changing in the other room, and tried not to think about the fact that you’d be sharing a room with the younger, taller, and—in your opinion—more attractive Winchester. _Besides_ , you thought, pulling a face at your reflection in the scratched bathroom mirror, _it’s not like he thought of you as anything but a fellow hunter._

                You stepped into the shower, letting the warm water relax your tired muscles. As you started to wash, you reminded yourself of all the reasons why Sam was not the guy for you.

_We spend too much time together._

_He’s too good a friend._

_If he wanted you, he would’ve made a move already._

_And besides, he doesn’t really go for girls with tattoos._

                You were proud of your ink, but you knew they could be a turnoff for some guys. You’d gotten your first on your sixteenth birthday, when your hunter mother took you to get an anti-possession symbol inked into your right shoulder blade. You’d loved the way the stark lines looked against your skin, and over the years had collected more. The single symbol on the back of your shoulder grew into a full sleeve continuing to your right wrist. The design was vaguely tribal, points and curves interspersed with various signs for protection and strength. Your left hip and thigh were covered in an intricate piece of Celtic knots, and when your mother passed away a few years before, you’d added her initials and her favorite flower, an iris, to your right ankle.

                Altogether, you bore an impressive collection of designs, and you considered each one a work of art. But you knew that not everyone felt the same way, and you were sure that Sam, with his no-nonsense hunter’s approach to fashion, was not the type to appreciate them.

                You rinsed off and stepped out of the shower, wrapping yourself in one of the thin motel towels. It was only once you started drying your hair that you realized you’d left your comb in your bag, out in the room with Sam. You sighed. If you didn’t work through the tangles while your hair was still wet, you’d wake up with a birds nest on your head. The only thing to do was wrap the towel a little tighter and go grab it.

 

Sam looked up when the bathroom door opened, then looked down again quickly when he realized that Y/N was wearing nothing but a towel. “Forgot my comb,” she explained, tiptoeing over to her bag. Sam nodded, feeling a blush rising in his cheeks as he stared straight ahead at the TV.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Y/N dart back into the bathroom. The door didn’t quite latch, though, and it swung open a crack. Without really meaning to, he watched the door, catching glimpses of movement and her ink-covered skin as Y/N dropped the towel, changed, and combed her wet hair. He felt a little bit like a voyeur as he did, but there was something mesmerizing about the dark lines curving over her smooth skin and flexing as she moved.

                Sam knew that Y/N had an anti-possession symbol and a few other sigils, but he’d never gotten the chance to examine them closer. Her usual uniform of boots, jeans, and a loose flannel shirt didn’t expose much skin, and it wasn’t like he could just ask her to take off her shirt so he could look at them. For a moment, he allowed himself to imagine tracing the designs with his fingertips and tongue, her naked body writhing beneath his hands on the bed.

                He shook his head and turned back to the movie. That kind of fantasizing got him nothing but frustration and an uncomfortable tightness in his pants. He resolved to keep those thoughts in check while he shared Y/N’s room.

                He nearly lost that resolve then and there when Y/N exited the bathroom. She wore a pair of threadbare shirts and a tank top, showing more of her skin than he’d seen in the entire time he’d known her. He gulped as he sank onto the couch beside him, trying to relax and seem natural.

 

                You hadn’t been sure about wearing your usual pajamas. They were a bit revealing, but the room was warm and you didn’t pack anything else nearly as comfortable. Much as you might wish it, you doubted Sam would care what you were wearing.

                “What’re we watching?” you asked, pulling your hair over your shoulder to braid it.

                “Um, _The Princess Bride._ It just started,” Sam answered, not making eye contact with you.

                “Really? That’s one of my favorites. My mom and I used to watch when I was a kid.” You smiled, remembering nights spend in your pajamas with a bowl of popcorn. Whenever she came back from a hunt, your mom would pick you up from your grandparents’ and the two of you would spend the evening together watching movies and camping out in your living room. It gave you something to look forward to whenever she went away, and as you got older you realized that it was your mom’s way of easing the guilt she felt for leaving you with her parents while she hunted.

                “Oh yeah?” said Sam, finally turning to face you. “You don’t talk about her much.”

                “I guess not,” you said. “She died about three years ago. Cancer.”

                “Oh, wow, Y/N, I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to bring that up.” Sam’s brow furrowed in concern, looking at you with his trademark puppy dog stare. “Do you want me to change it?”

                “It’s fine, really,” you reassured him. “I still love the movie. And it’s mostly just good memories now.” You shifted your weight on the couch. “I got this for her,” you said, extending your leg to show him the flower on your ankle. “It was her favorite flower, and then her initials.”

 

                Sam examined the delicate blossom on Y/N’s ankle, resisting the urge to run his hand over her smooth skin. “It’s beautiful. Did it hurt much?”

                “A little,” she replied. “The skin’s pretty thin there. Nothing I couldn’t handle, though,” she added with a wink.

                Working up his courage, Sam gestured to your thigh. “And this one?”

                “The knots? Not a problem. Took forever, though.” She extended her arm in front of him. “This one is my favorite, though. I got the first part when I was sixteen, and kept adding to it in bits and pieces.”

                “May I?” Sam asked, his hand an inch from Y/N’s forearm.

                “Go ahead.”

                He cradled her arm gently, running a fingertip over an arc of the design. He stopped when she inhaled sharply, goosebumps pebbling on her skin. Looking up, he saw that her pupils were dilated, her gaze fixed on him. There was a palpable change in the atmosphere, the air thickening with unspoken intentions. He continued slowly, gauging her reaction.

 

You tried to control your racing heartbeat as Sam traced the marks on your skin. His finger paused on a symbol near the crook of your elbow. “What’s this mean?”

“Uh, protection from evil,” you managed to reply. Your mind was nearly empty of anything other than Sam and the feel of his skin against yours. “There’s no real power in it, but I figured it couldn’t hurt in our line of work.”

“Makes sense,” Sam replied, his finger continuing up your arm. “And this one?”

“Good health.”

“This?”

“Strength.”

He slowly dragged his fingers over the curve of your shoulder to the sigil on your shoulder blade. “This one I know,” he said, his mouth so close to yours that you could feel his breath wash over your lips. Almost unconsciously, your tongue darted out to moisten your lips. The hunter’s eyes fixed on the movement, the irises a clear amber under the room’s lights.

“Y/N?” he whispered.

Your eyelids fluttered halfway closed. The only response you could get out was a breathy, barely audible, “please.”

With that, something in Sam’s gaze _snapped_ , and he fisted a hand in your hair before pulling you into a kiss. Kissing him for real was better than any fantasy you’d let yourself have, his lips soft and firm against yours.

Your lips parted with a gasp, and he took advantage of opening, deepened the kiss and sliding his tongue against yours. He pulled you close, and you twisted in your seat to face him. One of your hands tangled in his long locks while the other ran over the firm muscles in his arm.

He shifted his lips to the corner of your mouth and your neck, and you leaned your head back to give him access. “Sam…” you moaned, already feeling a dampness growing between your thighs.

 

                Sam could barely believe it was happening. After so long—too long—watching and wanting Y/N, her she was, soft and eager in his arms. With a groan, he pulled her leg over his lap to straddle him, using the new angle to lavish attention on the curve of her shoulder and the tops of her breasts.

                He groaned as she ground herself against him, cursing the layers of fabric that separated their cores. The way she was acting, he knew that she’d been wanting this as long as he had. He returned to Y/N’s lips, stroking his hands over her curves. He gripped her hips tightly, continuing his assault on her soft lips. With one hand, he slid the tie off the end of her braid, loosening the plait with his fingers and tangling them in the still-damp strands.

                She leaned back for a moment to yank off her shirt, exposing even more of that smooth skin and a black bra that barely covered her heaving breasts. He helped her remove it and kissed his way down to a nipple, sucking on the tight bud and rolling the other between his fingers.

                “Fuck, Sam…” she gasped, her hands gripping tightly onto his shoulders. She leaned down and pulled his face back to hers, covering his mouth with her own. Sam stood and began walking to the bed, Y/N’s legs coming up to wrap around his waist.

 

                Your senses were overwhelmed with _Sam,_ the feeling of his hands and lips, the taste of his mouth, the indescribable scent of his skin. He laid you gently on the motel bed, kissing down your chest and stomach to your waistband. You raised your hips to help him remove your shorts and panties in one smooth motion, leaving you completely bare under his gaze. He stood and removed his own clothes, his eyes raking over your form with a lustful gleam.

                “God, Y/N,” he said. “You are so damn beautiful.” He leaned back down to kiss you hungrily, the both of you now naked. One hand went to your core, and he groaned low in his throat when he felt how wet you were already. With a few expert strokes he had you clinging to his shoulders and moaning.

                “Sam, please,” you begged, not able to care about anything but your need to have him closer, to have him inside you. He ignored your pleas, continuing to move agonizingly slowly, massaging your clit with his thumb and slipping first one and then two fingers inside you. With a curl of his fingers, he hit your most sensitive spot, and you felt yourself approached the edge. A few more strokes later and you came hard, screaming Sam’s name the whole way.

                Before you could catch your breath completely, Sam thrust inside you, his impressive length and girth stretching you in the most delicious way. He gave you a moment to adjust, and when you nodded began fucking you with long, slow strokes. “Y/N, baby,” he gasped, picking up the pace as your hips rose and fell to meet his thrusts.

                You wrapped your legs around his waist, and the change in angle soon had you close to coming again. “Sam, I’m so close…”

                “Me too, baby. God, you feel so good…” Before long, neither of you were capable of anything more than wordless moans. You felt Sam thrust forward with a shout, his cock twitching inside you and filling you with his seed. You followed him over the edge, holding him as close as you possibly could as your muscles trembled and your breath caught.

                Sam collapsed on top of you, both of you sweating and panting. He kissed your temple and rolled to his side, pulling you in against his chest.

                “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he said, pressing another kiss to your hair and pulling the blanket over your naked bodies.

                You smiled and nestled closer to him. “Me too,” you said, before drifting off to sleep with Sam’s heartbeat thumping in your ear.


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tattooed!Reader wakes up with Sam after their first night together. Smut ensues.

You woke still curled up in Sam’s arms, his fingertips tracing the pattern on your thigh. You turned your head and looked up at him with smile. “Good morning,” you murmured sleepily.  
He smiled back at you, his face lighter than you’d ever seen it before. “Morning, Y/N. Sleep well?”  
You stretched and pressed a kiss to his chest. “Very. Best night’s sleep I’ve had in a long time.”  
With a finger under your chin, Sam tilted your face up for a kiss. You felt his smile against your lips and sighed contentedly, your own lips parting softly. Sam took advantage of the opening, deepening the kiss and pulling you closer. He rolled so that he was hovering over you, supporting the bulk of his weight on his arms but letting his warm skin press against your own.  
You reached up to clasp your arms around his neck, and one of his hands cupped your face gently. His other hand slid slowly down your side, gliding over your skin to curl over your hip. For a while, you focused on nothing but Sam, allowing yourself to relax into the moment. His kisses were slow and sweet, and his touch was gentle.  
You started to lose track of time, not thinking of anything beyond the warm bed and the man you shared it with. One of your hands roamed over Sam’s back, feeling the muscles shift under his skin as he moved against you. When you broke the kiss to take a breath, his mouth moved lower, dropping light kisses on your neck and jawline. He ran his tongue over the smooth skin below your ear, murmuring words of affection.  
You marveled at how sweet and tender Sam was being with you. Every touch was deliberate and gentle, and he handled you like you were something precious he might break. You’d spend enough nights on the other side of thin motel walls to know that this was not Sam’s usual style; you’d heard the rough grunts and harsh moans, the slamming of headboards against the wall and breathy shrieks from his latest conquest. But for whatever reason, he was different that morning. He seemed to be holding himself back, taking his time and savoring the moment.

 

Sam was pretty sure that he was still dreaming. Mornings like this just didn’t happen to him. But here he was, Y/N’s naked body moving and shifting beneath his hands. Small gasps and moans escaped from between her lips as he slid his hands over her warm, smooth skin.  
He nipped and sucked his way to her throat, one hand moving to massage her breast. Sam wanted to get it right with Y/N. The night before had been fast and passionate, almost frantic, and this time he was determined to take things slow. The last thing Sam wanted to do was scare Y/N away or hurt her. He’d cared about her for too long, and she was too important to him. And knowing him, it was only a matter of time before it went wrong.  
So for now, Sam was focused on the moment, on Y/N and the way she made him feel. The way he could make her feel.  
She moaned his name, and Sam could feel his cock stir at the sound. He tugged one of her nipples between his thumb and forefinger, smiling at her vocal response. He kissed his way down to the other nipple, lavishing attention on her breasts with his lips and tongue. She moaned and arched her back into him. Sam continued to knead her breasts as she moved and gasped.  
He used a knee to part Y/N’s legs, pressing his thigh to her growing wetness. He growled low in his throat at the feeling of her arousal, his cock hardening further in response. “God, Y/N,” he moaned.  
She twisted her hands in his hair, tugging at the long strands. “Please, Sam,” she gasped, “please, baby, I need you…”  
Sam smiled against Y/N’s skin. “I didn’t know you were this impatient,” he said, looking up into her eyes, half closed but fixed on him. With a smirk, he started kissing his way lower.

 

You closed your eyes and pressed back into the pillow as Sam moved down your body. He ran a hand over your thigh, gently tracing an arc of your tattoo with his fingertips. Spreading your legs with his large, callused hands, he opened you to his gaze. “I never noticed how it wrapped around the inside of your thigh,” he said, running his finger along the inked black lines, inching closer to your center. He pressed a kiss to your inner thigh, and you shivered and looked down at him, watching as his mouth drew closer to your center.  
You could feel his warm breath on your core, and he looked up with you with heat and an almost predatory hunger in his eyes. “Do you have any idea how many times I’ve wanted to do this, Y/N? To find out if you taste as good as you look?”  
Sam licked his lips, and parted your lower lips with his fingers. He licked up the length of your slit, pausing to tease your clit with his tongue. You bit your lip, trying not to cry out. He glanced up and smiled at your reaction, but kept going, sliding a finger inside you as he sucked your throbbing clit. He seemed to know exactly the pace to take you to the brink without letting making you come. You twisted your fingers in his hair, fisting the other in the bedsheets.  
You let out a groan, unable to keep it in any longer. “Please, Sam,” you begged, not caring anymore how you sounded. “Oh, please, fuck... Sam…”  
He added another finger, pumping them in and out of you. He was relentless, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. He moaned as he gently sucked your clit into his mouth, and the low rumble against your tender flesh only added to your arousal. You felt the muscles in your core tighten, your thighs quivering as you gasped his name.  
Suddenly, he pulled his fingers away and slid his tongue into you, the change in sensation enough to bring you over the edge, moaning his name in between incoherent syllables. You sank limply against the mattress, feeling like every nerve was tingling as you let the waves of your climax wash over you.   
Sam shifted back up to hover over you, his lips and chin glistening with your wetness. You pulled his head down to yours for a kiss, feeling his hard cock against your leg. You slid a hand between your naked bodies to grasp it, stroking it slowly as his tongue parted your lips.

 

Sam settled himself between her thighs, gently pulling Y/N’s hands above her head, holding her wrists loosely in one hand as he used the other to line himself up with her entrance. She nipped at his bottom lip as he slowly pressed into her. Sam kissed down her cheek and jaw, nipping at the sensitive spot on the side of her neck before returning to her mouth. He moved his hips, filling her completely before pulling back. He repeated the motion, settling into a slow, deliberate pace of strokes that he matched with his mouth and tongue against her lips.  
Sam clenched his jaw, nearly coming undone at the feeling of Y/N hot and wet around his cock. She moaned again as he kissed her, the sound lost against his lips. He released her wrists, bracing both arms against the bed as he rocked into her again. Her eyelids fluttered shut, and she brought her hands up to his face, stroking his cheek as she kissed him.  
He felt the muscles in her core move against him, and he forced himself to go slowly, wanting to draw out the moment as long as possible. “Fuck…” he moaned. “God, Y/N.”  
Y/N ran her hands over the muscles of his back, gently raking the skin with her nails. He could feel her quivering beneath him as he increased the pace, little moans and sighs escaping her lips with every thrust. “Oh, Sam,” she moaned, “Oh yes...please…”  
Sam moved a hand over the tattoo on her thigh, hooking her leg over his hip and sinking even deeper into her. Their voices mingled, both moaning incoherently as they focused on the sensation. He thrust again as she clenched around him, her climax bringing him to his own. He came, his cock throbbing as he moaned her name a final time.  
He sagged against her, content to just lie still and hear her breathe. Not wanting to crush her with his body, Sam rolled to the side, but kept his arm around her. She stretched, a satisfied smile on her swollen lips. Y/N curled herself into his side, and her eyes drifted shut as he kissed her gently.  
“That is an excellent way to wake up,” she said. She rested her cheek against him and he held her close, wishing that they’d done this a long time ago.

 

You weren’t sure how long the two of you laid together, just enjoying the peace and comfort, but you were interrupted by a banging on the motel door. “Y/N!” yelled Dean. “Y/N, you up?”  
You scrambled to find clothes--ending up with Sam’s flannel and your shorts--so you could answer the door. Sam muffled a laugh as you tripped your way across the room, trying to dress and walk at the same time. “Have you heard from Sam?” Dean asked as you opened the door. “He never made it back last night, and--” he stopped at the sight of you in his brother’s shirt, and glanced behind you to the bed where the younger Winchester sat half-covered with a sheet.  
He barked a laugh and smirked, a satisfied look on his face. “It’s about damn time!”


End file.
